#beyond just constantly volunteering for shit

[angelicblondie]

this is a diff anon, but i would loveee a step-cest luke fic. luke spoiling his new pretty little step sister jus to watch her parade around her little pink outfits when they come back from the mall. starting off innocently w just buying her relatively modest clothing, books, or makeup/skincare until she uses him to buy other things like micro miniskirts n victoria’s secret panties n shit. and obvs luke needs a reward for buying all her shit n carrying her bags and half-sipped drink for five hours at the mall, and what better way than a little fashion show until luke gets handsy ? (love ur luke characterization girl, plus im so obsessed w ur tumblr theme oml)

aww tysm angel 🤍🥹 that means sooo much <333 i love this idea so so much oml.

warnings ~ stepcest, manhandling/groping (MDNI)

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luke liked to think of himself as a good guy. he helped his elder neighbors with their groceries, he helped his mom cook dinner all the time, he even volunteered at homeless shelters every now and then. he had constantly been praised for being a stand up man.

but there was nothing good about how he acted when it came to you.

initially he wasn't fond of the idea of his moms new boyfriend coming into their life, especially with his daughter who was a few years his junior - he quite like it just being his mom and him, he liked being the man of the house. so when you and your dad came in to the picture, it took a bit of warming up.

of course he was ever the gentleman, helping the two of you move in when things got serious between your folks, and conversing politely when your dad. luke admittedly wanted to stay away from you at first - he was worried your parents would want the two of you to act like siblings, and he wasn't looking for a little sister. luckily though, that problem was rectified the first night you moved into his and his mom house.

it was late at night, and luke had gotten up to go to the bathroom. he tugged on the door in the hallway and frowned when it wouldn't open. he huffed in annoyance. great. he couldn't even use the bathroom in his own house now. he heard the sound of running water before the door eventually opened, and he had to look down slightly to take in your appearance.

there was a slight blush on your cheeks, and you were wearing the tiniest pajamas luke had seen. "sorry," you rush out. "i just had to brush my teeth, its yours now." you felt quite flustered by lukes appearance, given he was only wearing basketball shorts and his torso was bare - you had never really been exposed to anyone like that.

luke remembered chuckling. "its fine, kid, g'night."

you mumbled back the words with a sweet smile, and turned around to go back to your room. luke eyes followed your retreating figure, his eyes dropping down to the fullness of your perky ass as you walked away. he swallowed, looking down at his pants. he had a boner - shocker.

from then on he had developed what could only be described as a crush - he was always watching you, always wanting to please and spoil you, always wanting to look good for you - he was obsessed. of course your parents were thrilled, simply writing it off as the two of you bonding and strengthening your new family. luke let them believe this, whilst in his heart, he knew the truth.

luke wanted to win you over, so he did the one thing he thought of - spoiling you rotten. it started off with him buying you a new book you had been blabbering about at dinner one night, and when you had asked the reason for the supposedly impromptu gift, he has causally resounded that he wanted you to feel welcome in his home. you had been beyond grateful, pushing up on your toes to wrap you arms around his neck, body flush against his. he winced, knowing his cock was hardening by the second.

god, he was pathetic.

he then began to give you just about anything she wanted - it was hard to say no to you, not when your eyes got all wide and excited, smile so hopeful - he would have to be a monster to reject that.

you had begged luke to take you to the mall all morning, and whilst luke led you to believe he didn't want to go, of course he did. he could never pass up on any extra time with you, especially alone. by the time you had explored the mall, luke had multiple of your shopping bags hanging off his arms and your cold wet iced coffee in his hand as you walked free of the burden. he didn't mind it though, enjoying the view of your prancing around giddily to buy more and more things.

you had acted bashful when you saw something you like, pretending like you didn't long for it out of fear of wasting lukes money. like when walked by the isabel marant, you had spotted a pair of boots in the window that were divine, your eyes widened in awe, but you looked away after a moment, knowing the shoes must've been very expensive.

luke had noticed your gaze and nudged you, slowing down. "wanna go in?" he asked.

you bite your lip in contemplation but shake your head. "no, no, its ok, i was just looking."

he scoffs a bit, amusment dancing in his eyes, coming to a full stop. "none of that, kid. if you want something from in there just tell me, y'know i'll get it."

you insisted that it was fine, but luke wasn't having it. he dragged you in the store, forcing you to show him what you were looking at. he didnt even look at the price tag, immediately grabbing them and bringing them to the register.

and it was worth every dime spent to see how excited you got, pracially jumping on him once you got out of the store. he himself felt like he got something each time he had the satisfaction of swiping his card.

he usually was so well behaved, really. he only really touched you when you touched him first, he had gone out of his way to not make any overtly sexual comments. but today, he couldn't hold back his flirty comments or his wandering hands, because he had you all to himself.

"your ass would look great in those jeans."

"shit, if i was at a party and saw you in that-"

"that skirts short, so maybe just for home, kid."

it felt natural, and it wasn't like you didn't like it - no, you love it! you blushed bashfully each time, either thanking him sweetly, or hitting his lightly, fauxly scolding him for his raunchiness.

he couldn't help himself, he was nearing his last straw by the time you were at your second to last store. he was in the waiting room, scrolling through his phone when you shoved your curtain to the side, walking past him to stand in front of the mirror. he looked up at you and blinked, taking in your appearance.

immediate boner. like, immediate.

you had on a micro mini skirt, seriously, he wasn't sure you could even consider it a skirt, thats how tiny it was. it just barely covered the fat of your ass, and he was sure if you bent over even slightly you would be completely revealed.

"shit, you sure that isnt a headband or something?" he chuckled, his wors coming out nonchalnt but trust me, he was very chalant.

you rolled your eyes turning around to face him. "isn't it cute?" you had asked, swaying your hips jokingly.

he laughed, and thanked god for the pillows on the couch he was sitting on that was currently placed on his lap. "its adorable, lemme see up close."

he beckconed you closer, pretending to ciritcally look at the fabric. he hands were placed on your love handles, taking advanted of the oppurtunity to touch you. "very cute, kid. you gonna let me buy this for you?"

of course you said yes, and you walked out of the store along with different variations of the skirt, and luke couldn't have been happier.

by the time the two of you got home, lukes excitement had gone through the roof. he knew you would propose to do what you always do after a day of shopping - a little fashion show. so the two of you went upstairs to your room, and you closed the door of the closet, bringing all your bags in with you.

luke waited patiently for you to dress each time, and it was worth it when you came out, a big smile on your lips as you show off each new article of clothing, coming over to press big kisses on his cheek. he would place his hands right under you ass as you gave him a hug, holding firmly on the skin. it was impossible not to touch you, not when you looked like that.

so for the sake of the fashion show, lukes hands roamed your body in the name of "feeling the fabric" and "making sure everything fit right", which was of course was perfect excuse to feel up the curves and contours of you body.

once it reached the end, you came out of the closset in what luke could only describe as something from his dreams, and what could only be from the victorias secret store.

he thought it was wrong that something as sweet and innocent as you was in something so sexy, but boy did it get him going. you were wearing a read lacy matching set, and it complemented your body perfectly. it pushed up your tits ever so slightly, causing them to jiggle anytime you moved. the thong of the panties showed off your plump ass, and you turned around in the mirror, keeping your eyes on your body as you decide.

"what do you think? it feels a bit much, no?"

luke breathes out a laugh. "wow, kid, y'look great." he compliments, and you blush. "really? i feel silly," you admit, looking at yourself again in the mirror.

luke shakes his head, standing up and slowly walking up behind you. "nuh-uh. y'look really hot. like, really hot."

you blush harder, hiding you face in your hands. "luuuke," you whine shyly, and he just chuckled, grabbing your wrists. "what, shy all the sudden? after dragging me around all day and makin me pay for your shit?"

you pout a bit. "but you insisted!"

"i know, but still, i think i deserve some compensation, no?" he taunts a bit, as his hands come up to your waist.

his hands on your body made you feel hot. "what kind of compensation?" you ask, your voice growing quiet.

he sighs. "y'see kid, you got me a little worked up," he says, montioning down to his hard-on. your eyes widen as you follow his movement, lips parting in shock. "and really, it isnt my fault - i cant control it. if anything, its you fault. you've been showing off all day and i cant help it. but, if you really want to make it up to me, you'll help me relieve some of the pressure. how does that sound?"

of course you agree, wanting to do anything to please luke, so not long after your bent over, yours hands on the bed as luke stands behind you, his palms engulfing the globes on your backside, squeezing delicately yet firmly. "shiiiiiit. no idea how long i've been thinkin' bout this," he whispers against your ear, hands sliding to your waist. your breaths are shaky, and you feel the wettness pull in your brand new panties. "luke..." you whisper, hands wrapping around his wrists. "isn't this bad?"

luke pauses, and formulates his answer. sure, it wasnt morally good, or ethical, but it wasnt that bad. "no, its not. m'not your actual brother, and we're both adults. promise your not being bad," he whispers his response, his hands sliding up to lewdly fondle your tits.

your back is now against his chest as he continues to feel you up, and your head is laid back on his shoulder. he places the most delicate kisses on your exposed neck, never sucking (though all he wanted to do was mark up and bruise your perfect skin). you let out the quietest of whimpers, but too bad for you that your lips were right up against lukes ear.

luke tilts his head, hands travelling down your torso as his lips meet your ear. "feels good?" he asks, voice quiet and teasing.

you nod, hiding your face in his neck, hands deathgripping his wrists wherever he went.

he knew you had never been touched like this, it was obvious the way you seemed aflame by his simple touches and gropes. he knew that he couldnt just stick his dick in you, oh no, he had to play the long game.

he had to warm you up to the idea. you still seemed hesitant, worried about doing the wrong thing, worried about your parents finding out - becasuse you were a good girl. he knew it would take more than a little groping session to make you his, so he slowly pulled away, leaving you wanting more.

luke was playing the long game, and it wouldn't take long before he had you right where he wanted you.

[st-osmanthus]

Work’s been crazy and I’m trying to spend more quality time with my kids, so writing has been going veeeerrrry sloooooowly. The high school ZoLu WIP now has 25,000 words and counting. I honestly don’t know if I can get it out this summer, but I’m still hoping. Currently I’m in a self-imposed race to see if I can finish it before The Beast At Your Side hits 1,000 Kudos. (Or maybe if I time it right, I can release it to celebrate hitting 1,000 Kudos?? Ionno. I’m really trying though!)

Anyhoooo, here is a brief preview of the fic I’m determined to name Roronoa Zoro Is a Terrible Boyfriend (comedy; Japanese high school AU inspired by those damn Nissin Hungry Days commercials; ZoLu from Sanji’s POV):

Compared to dragging Zoro’s dense body through the minefield of adolescent wooing, cooking in a cramped, hot kitchen with Zeff breathing down his neck was a cakewalk in Sanji’s opinion. He could function on autopilot, guided by the tastes on his tongue and fragrances swirling about his person, and not have to wonder why his best friend of 16 years felt like a stranger all of a sudden.

Regardless of his unease, Sanji still volunteered to serve Zoro his dinner. He wasn’t surprised to see Zoro on his phone again; [redacted] must have responded and they were probably hashing out details of their date. When he got closer and finally noticed Zoro’s cocky grin, however, Sanji had to ask, “Good news?”

Zoro chuckled. “Just Luffy goofing around. Check this.”

On his screen was a low-res video of two wrestlers facing off in what looked to be an amateur-level competition. Zoro’s face was superimposed over the head of the wrestler who was clearly losing. His opponent wore a similarly edited image of a scary-looking high schooler Sanji didn’t recognize. Just as faux-Zoro collapsed and was about to receive a flying elbow to the solar plexus, a third wrestler flashing Luffy’s best snarl abruptly flew into the ring to tackle the offender, thereby turning the tide of the fight.

In sparkly purple, the caption along the bottom read, “Me defending your honor if I ever see that punk Vista at a tournament.”

Sanji shook his head. “First years got too much time on their hands.”

Zoro snatched his phone back. “It’s just for fun. He can’t spend all his time at baseball practice.”

Sanji politely avoided pointing out this classic case of pot calling the kettle black. He let his natural nosiness get hold of him again and asked, “You’re not insulted at the implication that he thinks you’ll lose to Vista again?”

“It’s not that serious, Curly. Look at the one he made this morning.”

This one was a short gif looped together to create a longer video, with Sanji’s face on a cartoon lion, snarling toward the left after an antelope sprouting Nami’s smirk, but before he could catch her, a zebra with Ulti’s trademark glare zoomed past, and lion-Sanji abandoned antelope-Nami to chase the zebra. The video went on for quite a few loops and featured various girls and female teachers from their school as the antelope and the zebra. The constantly distracted lion-Sanji failed to catch any of them.

“That little shit!” Sanji jumped, incensed. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m just single right now. If I had a girlfriend, I’d be so loyal I would gouge my eyes out before I looked at another woman!”

Zoro scoffed, but he didn’t deny Sanji’s claim. He was sending another text, a roguish smirk prancing about his lips, and he read the words out loud as he typed them, “Luffy, cook here is offended by your masterpiece.”

Luffy’s response came almost instantaneously, and Zoro took great glee in sharing it with Sanji: “Luffy says, ‘Why? He doesn’t get it? Is he stupid?’”

Sanji had no time to react. The mosshead was positively giggling as he typed back, “It’s true what they say. Dumbasses can’t appreciate art. Aaaaand send.”

Sanji was severely unimpressed. “How was any of that funny? That was so stupid. That was beyond stupid. You two are the dumbasses. Also, you text like an old man and your insults are juvenile!”

…

…….

Okay, like, I honestly think this fic is gonna be a fun one and I can’t wait to write down everything that is in my brain and share it with you all.

Please cyber bully me into writing faster. 🙏

[supa-kuwameshi-bros]

team urameshi’s moral alignments, and how that impacts the kuwameshi dynamic (and also some stuff about hiei)

not quite the promised narrative parallels follow up just yet, but hopefully this is good enough in the meantime!

given yusuke and kuwabara’s nature as rivals first and foremost, i’ve found their dynamic at its core is largely defined by their contrasting values/moral codes (or lack thereof.) these differences, i believe, are a key factor in why they make such a good duo, both romantically and otherwise.

something i’ve always really loved about kuwabara, for instance, is how he is constantly a tether to yusuke’s humanity, showing how kuwabara is willing to challenge him not only physically, but philosophically. and yes ik that’s likely a needlessly fancy way of phrasing it but hear me out, right?

i’ve found that team urameshi exists on a scale of humanitarianism: the left side being where hiei resides, and the right, kuwabara. kurama exists somewhere between the middle and left, still compassionate enough to seek out mercy wherever viable, but willing to get his hands dirty if the situation demands it. i believe yusuke exists in the exact middle of this scale, which reflects his status as a half-demon, allowing him to swing one way or the other depending on the situation. spontaneous as always!

i actually went ahead and made a little visual accompaniment to better illustrate what i’m talking abt here, bc im a goddamn nerd

it’s very rough looking but whatever it’s a tumblr post. would very much like to know any greater thoughts anyone has on the placements made here, particularly kurama bc he is easily the most morally layered out of these four. i live for the discussion aspect of these things hehehehehe

ANYWAY back to the aforementioned twink (more of a twunk, really.) the interesting part about this application of the scale metaphor is that it more or less visualizes hiei and kuwabara as the theoretical devil and angel on yusuke's shoulders, which may not be too far off from the roles they play in yusuke's life, something we see most often shown in the dark tournament.

for hiei, this manifests as him often being the one to push yusuke to finish things quickly, without consideration for greater consequence because either it’s more efficient or “it must be done.” hell, most of the time he goes beyond that and just. does it himself. bc he’s hiei and yk what we love him for that. this attitude fed into yusuke’s affinity for doing things the easy way, rather than the “right” or most traditionally morally upright way, which one could argue only further chipped away at yusuke’s already fraying tether to his humanity.

in particular, i think of the moments just before kuwabara vs. risho, where yusuke and hiei had more or less decided they were just gonna blow the whole stadium sky-high when faced with possible disqualification.

in response to yusuke’s increasing anger, hiei — being the absolute anarchist he is — is quick to suggest they do away with the tournament as a whole, securing themselves a victory by relying on survival of the fittest, something hiei is quite familiar with given his hephaestus trauma and general upbringing in makai. basically, “fuck that noise, this shit is rigged anyway. lets pop SEVERAL caps in their asses and be done with it.”

and of course, given his temperament and previously stated leanings, yusuke is quick to concede to hiei’s point regardless of the fact it would be endangering literally everyone in the vicinity including their allies in the stands. but neither of them consider that— or perhaps, they just don’t care in this moment. which could honestly lead me into a whole other analysis of how fundamentally similar yusuke and hiei are, BUT THATS FOR ANOTHER DAY….

either way, yusuke definitely would’ve gone through with this plan if not for kuwabara volunteering himself for the round in spite of his debilitating injuries, which leads me to kuwabara’s opposing force, and (finally,) the kuwameshi aspect to all of this.

kuwabara’s a character known for his strict moral code, and he’s no stranger to preaching openly to others about said “honor code.” and of course, as his rival, yusuke is far from an exception to this. at multiple points throughout the series he can be seen lambasting yusuke’s amoral behavior, such as what is seen in the build up to kuwabara v. risho.

it’s common knowledge to anyone who’s read/watched yu yu hakusho that yusuke is a character who behaves almost entirely upon impulse; it’s something established as early as chapter 15!

as a consequence, he’s extremely reckless; one could even say inconsiderate or hedonistic. it’s one of the fundamentals of his character! he’s incredibly flawed, and his morality is painted in shades of grey as a direct result. and here, we see kuwabara challenging this directly. it’s done in a way that speaks volumes to what these two mean to each other, as well, given the fact that shortly after, we see that yusuke has allowed kuwabara to step up to the plate.

kuwabara holds a unique position when it comes to yusuke in the sense that he remains a constant tether to yusuke’s morality. granted, keiko also holds a similar position, but while her tether to his humanity is more physical, given her role as the “girl at home,” kuwabara’s is an ethical one, in how his philosophy has shaped yusuke and pushes him to do better. though granted, they’re both emotional tethers to yusuke’s humanity. keiko and kuwabara stop paralleling each other challenge. it’s rlly not helping yusuke beat the bisexual allegations.

either way, kuwabara’s bullheaded determination to go the straight and narrow no matter the seeming futility of it is something that has left a noticeable mark on yusuke, enough so that when he sees that effort be tossed aside or taken for granted, yusuke— for lack of a better term— crashes the fuck out.

it means a lot to him! that fundamental goodness in kuwabara that yusuke didn’t even see himself, until chapter 7 showed him plain and simple that kuwabara’s genuinely just a great guy. and so even though yusuke’s own internal philosophy tends to align more with hiei’s “survival of the fittest” outlook on the world, he still finds real value in kuwabara’s beliefs, remaining fiercely protective of those ideals and the boy that holds them. enter the eternal cycle of: kuwabara tries to do heroic shit, gets absolutely blasted, yusuke has a full on fucking crash out, powers up, wins, repeat. still, kuwabara will always challenge yusuke in this way, and yusuke will in turn always challenge him. it’s what makes their bond so special, because really, all yusuke wants is someone who can match his pace and shove back when he pushes. and luckily for him, while yusuke’s certainly stubborn, kuwabara may be even more so.

it harkens back to the earliest days of their relationship, the quintessential example of unstoppable force (kuwabara) vs. immovable object (yusuke.) only now, while he has yet to overcome yusuke physically, kuwabara (likely without even realizing it himself) has earned yusuke’s respect enough that when he tells yusuke that winning the tournament the clean way is the best route, yusuke listens— which, getting yusuke to listen to ANYONE other than himself is a goddamn miracle. he won’t even listen to KEIKO, and that girl’s got him wrapped around her finger approx. 13 times over.

kuwabara pushes yusuke to be better, basically, and yusuke is receptive to that because he genuinely respects kuwabara’s input in spite of all the ribbing they engage in (though i do maintain that he definitely has some… thoughts on kuwabara’s methods. cough cough ichigaki.) im contrasting this aspect of kuwabara with hiei, here, but really, a much more explicitly kuwameshi adjacent parallel that makes me even crazier is kuwabara and itsuki, but that could be a whole post on its own.

this is something the source material (IN THE DUB) may have acknowledged, too, with genkai’s parting words to kuwabara before her demise at the hands of toguro. she tells kuwabara, “You have a gentle heart. Use it.” what exactly this could be referring to specifically remains ambiguous (likely bc it’s a dub specific piece of dialogue), but given how the line is framed by genkai requesting kuwabara tell yusuke not to follow her, and the camera panning to yusuke’s sleeping face to conclude the scene, i’d figure it involves him. in specific, i believe this is in reference to the crux of this analysis: kuwabara’s influence over yusuke’s moral decisions. perhaps she felt kuwabara may have been able to sway yusuke, or at the very least hold him off from doing something too rash and marching right into death. who knows? this line doesn’t even rlly matter anyway bc it’s not even present in the original translation but WTVR my analysis my rules.

overall, this is just one example of how yusuke and kuwabara make up for one another’s individual shortcomings/blind spots to create a better whole. in soso many ways, they make each other better!! but they can also make each other worse, and i’m not just talking about the insane codependency that kuwabara develops by the time three kings begins. ALAS, i have not the time to divulge right now. either way, these two mean so much to each other, and honestly, i think they should kiss about it. hold hands, maybe. i know their asses were cuddling during the dark tournament. they should get married but instead of kissing after their “i do”s they punch each other in the mouth.

that’s pretty much all i’ve gotta say on this subject as of right now. this ended up way longer than i anticipated uhhh whoops. tune in next time for how yusuke’s negative traits rub off on kuwabara, as opposed to kuwabara’s positive traits rubbing off on yusuke and HOPEFULLY that plot analysis that’ll give more context to what i’m talking about here. do hope this was more kuwameshi specific than my last little analysis bc it was. barely shippy at all. forgive me.

OH YEAH ALSO if any of yall have any thoughts on this, whether it be adding onto this analysis or even pointing out something you personally disagree with, i’d love to hear your input!! discussion makes me go YIPPIE and i’d love to engage :D

[bleedingcoffee42]

Winnix Monday contribution as a continuation of these photo prompts- Part 1 , Part 2. With a little influence from Beyond Band of Brothers because why wouldn't I?

drabble under the cut.

“Dick, you weren’t looking at the camera.”  Nix said as soon as Krocha started to advance the film.

“What?”  Dick asked, still looking at Nix and trying to come up with a way to get a copy of that photo.  

“I’m sure they’ll need a profile photo for someone to carve your likeness into a mountain or something as the guy who won the war, but for now they probably want to be able to show off officer candidates.”  Nix said and Krocha seemed to buy that and Dick turned to show off for the camera.  Nix snorted as he added, “A rare shot of you wearing some goddamned clothes.”

Dick smiled, Nix was always dressed like a gentleman, shirt tie and everything pressed.   A product of his proper upbringing.  Dick worked hard on his body and liked to show it off, and occasionally lecture DeEtta on diet and exercise regimens because of said perfect body.  Krocha took the photo and laughed, because he had taken a lot of photos of Dick in his shorts.  That was apparently enough so the man moved on to new subjects, leaving Dick to dwell on the subject of his body.   And physical discipline.  “What do you think of the paratroopers?”

“Mmm?”  Nix asked as he fished in his pocket for cigarettes.  “Well, I could use the extra money.”

Dick laughed and started to walk and Nix fell in beside him.   They walked in time to each other, and it came naturally.   They couldn’t be more different, but like puzzle pieces they just fit perfectly when matched up and clicked into place.   It was so easy to be with him, so honest.   He knew Nix was already thinking what he was thinking, but he vocalized it anyway.  To set things in motion. “They’re the most impressive soldiers here.  If I go to war, I want to be with the best and they look like they are the best.”

“They don’t call them All American for nothing.”   Nix said as he watched some of the 82nd Airborne guys in the distance doing the Airborne shuffle and getting Krocha’s attention as well.  He wasn’t surprised that was what Dick set his eyes on, the men ate up the propaganda of being the ‘elite’ and it oozed off them with every move.   Arrogant assholes, but for good reason. The kind of guys you wanted beside you when you were in deep shit. “Got to put someone on the recruiting posters to lure you in.”

“Look at them, Nix.  Bronzed soldiers, training constantly, preparing to jump behind enemy lines and be their own resources.. Their own army. Not some helpless fodder in the trenches just part of the numbers required to win the war.”

“I see guys being worked ten times harder than anyone else here.”

“Exactly.”  Dick said.  “This infantry thing, the rate of survival isn’t good.”

“Even less when you consider the officers they’re making who can’t use a map to find their own bunks more or less an enemy bunker.”  Nix said and shook his head.  Some of their classmates had been less than impressive. Others were studying their asses off and still not making headway.   Most were good, most would learn and be able to use it, but Dick was on point with the life expectancy accompanying that.

“I think I’m going to volunteer.”  Dick said and remembered when he had given his friend Tresta a hard time about the paratroopers and now here he was seeing it as exactly what he wanted.   His parents were going to have a fit, but for the first time in his life he felt like this was exactly what he wanted.  That thought made him immediately turn to look at Nix and take a deep breath realizing his subconscious was trying to remind him of his wants.  Discipline! The paratroopers were the elite and demanded discipline.  Another reason he needed to volunteer.   Except he was saying this to Nix to see if he could convince him to go with him.   He swallowed hard looking at that tell-tale smirk touch Nix’s lips around the cigarette dangling from them.

“Recruiting for more volunteers are you?”  Nix asked and they held each other's gaze again for too long, but Lewis Nixon III was never a man to look away from anything.   Had that drilled into him by his father and grandfather, one who wanted to assert dominance and the other who wanted to build him into a confident man.   No reason to want to look away from Dick anyway.

Dick suddenly felt the ache of loss, something absurd for a friendship barely two weeks long.   In making a choice that felt right for himself he might be separating himself from the one person he felt drawn to like a magnet.  They had talked so much, helped each other understand things about themselves, that it felt like they had known each other for a lifetime already.  So, was he asking Nix to jump out of a plane with him or asking Nix to tell him if this was what he really wanted?  

“Well, can’t let you go alone.  None of these idiots are going to give you the right map to tell you where you need to land.”  Nix winked, took his cigarette from his lips and blew the smoke from his nose as to not obscure the vision of Dick in front of him: the hope and joy that lit up his face as he realized he was going to accompany him on this journey.   

It was an overwhelming rush of emotion; the apprehension of asking, the realization his first loss in this could be Nix, the absolute joy of hearing he was going with him.  It was like asking a girl to the prom, but more intense.   Of course there was no saying they’d be together, the army could send them anywhere.    The odds of even seeing each other again after OCS was so small…

“I can pull a few strings and see if I can get us in together.”  Nix said as if hearing his thoughts and grinned as Dick’s face took on another level of elation and hope.  “God knows my Mom has been doing everything in her power to get me stationed near her when this training ends.   Dix and Croft have been way too far away, Mrs. Nixon’s baby boy needs to be safely tucked away as an officer doing paperwork in her backyard on the California coast.   She’ll take news of me volunteering for the most dangerous job I can really well.  As long as I tell her I got a friend who’s going to watch my back after I volunteer, consider us bunkmates at paratrooper training.  You’ll get the supreme honor of hiding my Vat 69 in your footlocker.”

Dick was breathless.   He had no doubts Doris Nixon would pull it off, Nix’s Mom was extremely well connected and also had enough money to pave the way anywhere for her son.   Any thoughts of discipline were beginning to dissolve as he looked at that smile on Nix’s face, the one he got when he played a spectacular hand of cards or bested someone with a move in chess.   

“We still need to get through OCS first.” Nix said and returned the cigarette to his lips.  “Still want to study on your map reads?”

“Yes.”  Dick, normally offended by his own academic failings, had found that struggling with maps had been a surprising turn of fortune.  He got to spend more time with his tutor:  Nix was a natural, just like everything he tried his hand at.   If there was a more perfect human being on this planet than Lewis Nixon, he probably would never notice because he was always staring at Nix.  

Nix lifted his clipboard and showed he had borrowed some maps from the classroom to do just that.  “Your place or mine?”

“Mine.  My bunkmate is spending most of his time visiting friends he’s made along the way.”  Dick said, knowing his 37 year old Staff Sergeant roommate would be anywhere but in the bunkhouse.   The man was career army, had made connections and was using them.  Not that he didn’t use his own connections to help him pass classes, but Nix volunteered.  “Why are you studying, Nix?  You made it clear you never went to class at Yale and only went to class in boarding school because you were a hostage there.   What changed?”

“You.” Nix said and Dick lit up.   He shook his head.  “Hell, Dick, I’m doing all of this for you.”

Dick watched him wave the clipboard around and point back to the sand tables and the photographer.  He knew Nix didn’t care for any of it, he could pass any test without trying and he only engaged with people he found interesting or social enough to drink and play cards with him.   Discipline was crumbling and for once Dick didn’t care.

[mothmags]

Neil Hartfiillia

Im going to be honest boys are not my strong suit when it comes to writing but I had a lot of fun with this one so it's super long

It's been a while so heres the link to the masterpost <3

Him and his mom are close

Mommas boy and all that

Kinda a loner like how his dad was before lucy came along but enjoys people's presence

But motherfucker needs atleast one person around him at all times or he will explode

He might be a loner but he doesn't enjoy being alone if that makes sence

Is besties with a newcomer to the guild who has a voice based magic. (I havent figured him out fully yet so I'll leave it at that but they are attached at the hip)

Is the epitome of "boys will be boys" and instead of heinous shit he's like playing a cello in the boys bathroom at the guildhall or just being an in general weird teenage boy

His magic is music based btw :)

My guy was put into piano lessions at like 7 because he was - and I quote - "setting too many things on fire when he was mad and needed to find a better way to cope with big emotions"

Mind you he does not know fire magic

He would steal matches from the guildhall and hide them in his pants

He wanted to be like his dad and be a fire based mage but it didn't work out :(

Unlike a lot of his family, magic didnt come naturally to him

Instruments didn't come naturally to him either at first but early on Lucy mentioned how much she liked classical music and missed playing piano as a kid and he was determined to play something for her

For a while, his parents didn't even know if he could be a magic user and kept trying to tell him that, that was ok

It's very rare for someone to just not be able to do magic at all since everything has magical energy, but it's still a possibility

He has a huge inferiority complex about his magic because of it, even though he's very talented (and works very hard)

after his first concert (with went very well btw) he decided to keep learning more and more. He started to pour his soul into his music and that's when his magic manifested

He plays a lot of string instruments and is starting to branch into brass (heavy trumpet kid vibes)

His mom gave him her Lyra silver key for his 10th birthday since he would constantly ask her to summon her to play music with him

His magic has some attack based stuff but is mostly illusionary and emotions based

He can make illusions that help tell the story that his music is trying to portray

Think of a mix of Anastasia once upon a December and the chariot magic show from little witch academia

Unlike his sister, he's a lot more imaginative when it comes to storytelling and writing

His go to instruments are violin gutar, and the piano but the motherfucker goes hard on the organ

He plays for the church on weekends he doesn't have a job. (Hes not religious he just enjoys it)

It started out as a volunteer thing when because they needed someone until they could hire a new organist when the previous one had passed

They kinds just hired him when more people would go to church to see his illusions before and after mass

He writes his own music and practices it in the main guildhall

He mainly sticks to a corner near the back, and a few people sit nearby to talk to him or enjoy his music and illusions

On Fridays, he plays for the dinner hour on the stage with a few other guildmates

He mainly takes on ambiance based jobs and a few places specifically ask for him to play at their resterants if they have an event. (He becomes very well known both locally eventually all across Fiore and beyond for this)

He pays for a lot of his instruments himself by now but at first his parents were really exited to pay for literally everything but he started to feel bad when he would pick up a new several hundred thousand plus jewel instrument like several times a year

When he gets older he gets sponsored by the Magnolia Institute of Music and he goes to college there, and eventually teaches there

He is very much for the theatrical and art based part of magic that many people push aside for more practical stuff

He asked Erza to teach him requip magic so he can store all of his instruments there instead of in his room (he ran out of space) and for when he's out on jobs so he doesn't have to carry the heavy ones

It took his a while to get the hang of it but he got there!!

She was very excited to teach him and in return he would write music just for her :)

he had a concert at the guild hall dedicated to those songs as a thank you (half of the songs were intense battle ballads, and she was so proud)

Erza, Wendy, Mira, Gajeel and Nashis friends are his biggest non direct family supporters and show up at every concert to hype him up (they also are the main ones to visit his little music corner as the guild started to call it)

Erza and Mira cry every time so he consciously plays happy songs when they visit him

When wendy and the little kids visit he makes little creatures for them to pet and she gushes over them

Gajeel and more of the next gen ppl help him get out of his comfort zone and play different genres outside of classical and classical adjacent music

He gave him a electric guitar once out of the blue once because he wanted to "hear him shred" - and he did just that (it's one of his favorites and plays it frequently)

Happy likes to sit with him a lot, and eventually, the other exceeds join him because they find it soothing

They like to sit on or close to his bigger instruments when he plays them, and they frequently fall asleep when this happens

When he is on a job everyone would say that it's weird that there isn't any music and mira had to put something on the loud speaker because the "silence" (if fairy tail even had that) would make people uneasy

This was mainly on slow days, tho and doesn't happen often

Neil was surprised when he found out since he really didn't think that many people would notice or care, especially since he didn't talk to some of them much, if at all

Like a half year ago he went to bother his sister at her apartment at like 3am and she was helping Odessa dye her hair

They mixed too much black so he said fuck it and slapped the rest on his head, stole a piece of pizza and went home (hair unwashed btw)

The next say all his pillow cases were covered in black splotches, and his mom was not happy about it

I have more to put but that’s for a future post ;)

[verdantwyrm]

"Okay but which one is asking for donations constantly"

The one that is a registered nonprofit and is completely run by volunteers and has never ever run ads or used algorithms or sold your user data for profit ✌️

"and then also doing fuck all with said donations"

As a registered nonprofit everything they do with their budget is public: https://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/28423

Anon, you're just embarrassing yourself at this point. This is just some elaborate money laundering scheme, and it's working by how much you're glazing them. Looking up random posts and going into their inbox and hyping up this fuck-ass website that has really shit filtering, really shit tagging, buggy and extremely laggy... it's just overall really bad in so many ways beyond their inability to be transparent about their spending... hope off their dicks lmao

[ladylooch]

Live going through her first heartbreak before Luca.

Our Livy girl takes it hard. She puts herself out there for a boy who ends up only being interested in dating Timo Meier’s daughter. He’s constantly trying to pressure her into things and he ends up breaking up with her because she “is a prude.”

She asks the school nurse to call her mom to come pick her up, but it’s Timo who shows instead.

“Mama is volunteering with the boys on their school trip, so you get me. You sick, baby?”

She nods. Timo looks his daughter over.

“Tummy?”

“No.”

“Cramps?”

“No!”

“Okay well I know how to handle that.”

“I just want to go home.”

“Okay. We will go home.” He reaches for Liv’s shoulders, guiding her into his side as they walk to the car.

“When is mama going to be home?”

“After 3.” Timo says while turning the car on.

“That’s so long.”

“You can talk to me. I listen really great. Mama is a reference.”

“Mama says you never listen.”

“No she means I don’t always do what she wants me to. I listen.”

“It’s a boy thing.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going to get mad.”

“I won’t.”

“My boyfriend broke up with me. He said I was too… immature for him.”

“He’s not for you then, baby. You are wise beyond your years.” Liv pauses, looking at her dad. He turns out of the school then looks over at her with a smile. “You’re a Meier and a Hischier. Don’t settle for anything.”

Liv is quiet for a moment. Timo reaches for her hand, giving it a squeeze. It’s simple, but it dulls the ache for a couple of minutes.

Timo takes Liv out for ice cream and they talk more about said boy. Timo resists the urge to turn back towards school and have a talk with the boy who made his daughter feel like shit. His chest tightens at every wobble of her chin when she talks.

All he wants to do is protect his little girl. Why does that feel so hard now that she’s getting older?

[azonewithu]

Im too deadly gor the likes of moetsl man but im yoo deadly for non mortal man too. An Arch cant be defeated only bargained with. Yeah im always underestimated til i prove my divinity so many times on a row its undeniable. Ive been here before doing the same shit in another time. Its why i seem so experienced. Peoole get whatvthey deserve from me whether i love them or not. Loves got npthn to do with judgment.judgments something else its got nothing to do with love. I dont know which is more important its not about rating things. If you have been judged and i call you out. Ill kill you if youbfont smarten up. Changing is better than attaining false greatness. These people cant gove you a fitire using ai. People playing with stupid tobot gadgeys all day or tirning into robots themselves. Its not cool you dont look snart or great constantly pksying on yhe phone or computer or anything. We font play. Sometimes you gotta go where thete is no fuckn entertsinment and the judgments are severe. But if you know what i mean and you can roll with it i wont have to rock ur world in a bad way. Youre not here to be continoysky entertained. You can have just as much if not more fun without some stupid spectacle to behold all the time. Those atecrequire coonstant things yo do are lost. They dont have any soul sobthey plsy with junk all day. Toys like a child. No wonder i kicked your asses youre just materislistic fucks. I can look better smarter stronger than you just sitting staring at you. Ill entertain you better than a fuckn screen can. Youbdont have to live your life vicariously though these shit whicks on tv.theyre addicted to sticking their faces on it. We dont need shit ill watch the beverly hillbilles i dont need yo watch snything i have a high iq. Screens lower your iq. Make youbdistracted snd vslue nonsense. Do you guys have a volunteer dueler yet? Ok im still King if Arch abd Earth.iver snykne. Im up here beyond and far better than monkeys on the ground. Be insulted thats my intention at least youre not that stupid. To not know when someones fucking with you. No ones rver captured ehat i can do on film snd im the only one who csn do it. Girks like rate giys youre typical thats why not matter ehat you announce they still think ur a nounce.

how to say "I love you" in x-files [125/?] ⤷ 2.10 — “Red Museum”

[grassbreads]

Shoutout to Xie Lian for being a protagonist with absolutely no goals and no involvement in driving the overarching plot of his own book

[cinewhore]

The Only Exception

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x fem!reader

read extended cut here [x]

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxic family dynamics, smut 18+ (groping, male receiving oral, penetration, unprotected sex, facial cumshot). fluff and some angst! 

A/N: girlies, the whore jumped out! Takes place during episode 6 season 2. Credit to the gif creator! I hope y’all enjoy it. 

Nothing ever goes smoothly with the Berzatto’s.

Why you thought this holiday dinner was going to be any different was beyond any rational comprehension.

Trying not to be a complete klutz and ruin the side dish you’ve been working on the entire day, you delicately balance it in your left hand while adjusting your scarf tighter around your neck with your right. Putting a pep in your step, you round the corner from where you parked, spotting the stoop instantly.

It was a rare sighting to see all three of the Berzatto siblings together. With Carmy being away at culinary school, Mikey doing his own thing with the restaurant and Natalie living her life, one person always missed the other. It warmed your heart to see just how much they cared about each other, even if they didn’t show it in a normal or healthy way.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mikey’s voice booms over the light traffic passing by, handing Carmy the cigarette he was puffing on.

You crack a smile, despite it feeling like your lips were stuck together due to the cold weather. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. Fuckin’ cat had my keys.”

“How many times did I tell you to get rid of the cat?” Mikey leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, forcing him to peck you on the cheek instead.

“C’mon, baby.” he drawls, throwing you a bashful smile.

You huff out a sigh, lowering your voice. “You know I hate the smoking.”

Mikey nods, face fading into something serious before vanishing. “I know you do. You didn’t bring fish, did you?”

Side-stepping the tall Berzatto, you get pulled into a hug by Natalie, followed by Carmen.

“Hello, gorgeous! It’s so good to see you!” Natalie kisses you on both cheeks before making the move to grab the dish out of your hands. You pull back, shooting her a look.

“Nat, please. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” you watch as her bottom lip quivers a bit. You steal a glance at Carmy, who just shakes his head.

“Fuck. How bad is it?” you gaze at the disheveled trio, awaiting an answer.

Finally, Mikey breaks the silence.

“It’s at a five. Six, at best.”

You lick your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. “That’s not too bad, right?”

“Right.” Carmy agrees, with Natalie humming in agreement.

“Just don’t fucking ask if she’s doing ok.” Mikey glimpses at his sister, placing hand on your lower back to guide you into the house.

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, plastering a smile on your face before entering the shit show.

You’d only been there an hour and you were called the wrong name three times, objectified, cursed at and now Fak was trying to get you to put up five hundred dollars for baseball cards.

Listening with great intent, nodding at all the right times and twirling the wine glass in your hands desperately wanting to get another refill had your social energy spent.

“We could make you a lot of money, cousin.” Fak goes on, nudging his brother for support.

“Yeah-yeah! Think about what you could do with fifteen hundred bucks! Cold hard cash!” the lookalike chimes in.

“Wow, no, yeah this-this sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime.” you murmur. Don’t take it the wrong way, you loved Fak. His personality was infectious, you’ve never seen him get overly angry despite the other guys giving him shit constantly and he genuinely goes out of his way to help everyone. Back when you first started dating Mikey and moved apartments in the city, Fak volunteered to make sure your place was in tiptoe shape and refused payment.

Just then Steve, Michelle’s husband, passes by and you seize your opportunity.

“Steve! How are you?” you beckon him over, scooting over on the tiny couch so he could sit beside you.

“Ah, yes. Mikey’s girl who we aren’t sure how he managed to snag. Good to see you again.”

You brush off his comment with a tired smile, gesturing to Fak and his brother. “So, these guys have a proposition for you, right?”

You nod enthusiastically with them, giving Fak a secret wink.

“Oh, yes! Yes! Do you like baseball cards, Steve?”

“On that note,” you stand up and maneuver yourself out the nook. “I’m gonna go get a refill. Leave you gentlemen to handle business.”

Mocking a military salute, you dash towards the kitchen bypassing other members of the family.

Donna flurries around the kitchen, shouting instructions to no one in particular. You didn’t greet her as soon as you came in, knowing how she gets around this time of the year. To be honest, you were sure that she didn’t exactly like you.

“Donna, my goodness! You look wonderful.” you lay the complement on sweetly, smiling brightly. If you don’t wilt in her presence, she wouldn’t be able to smell the fear on you.

Donna swivels her head to look at you, cigarette dangling from her lipstick smeared lips. Eyes lined in thick mascara, her disapproving expression ripples through you. You smile wider.

“I brought over a little casserole. I figured it would compliment the fish nicely.”

Shifting to face you fully, Donna crosses her arms. “Casserole? What casserole?”

You point to the tin foiled dish. “That one. Mikey brought in, did he not tell you?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, just like he told me about him breaking things off with what’s her name.”

“Anna.” you mutter, swallowing the lump that quietly made its way up your throat.

“Yeah, Anna.” Donna turns back to the task at hand, haphazardly swinging a knife about. “I liked her better.”

Forgoing your much desired glass of wine, you stalk out of the kitchen. On the outside looking in, the Berzatto’s appeared to be your average family. The warm glow of the lights shining out into the frost covered sidewalks invited you in all those years ago and once inside, you then realized why people were so hesitant to accept invites or why Mikey refused to bring up his past.

You didn’t have this growing up. Your family life was much quieter, mom and dad both kept to themselves. Distant cousins never visited for the holidays and you were an only child so there weren’t any siblings to fall back on.

It was boring.

Drove you crazy.

So when the Berzatto’s welcomed you in with open arms (well, some of them) you threw yourselves to the wolves willingly. It helped you grow a thick skin, talk over people and man handle the biggest guys in the room. For that, you were thankful.

A hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, dragging you away from everyone and up the stairs. Mikey is headstrong in his quest to get you alone, not caring to see if you were keeping up the pace. You both stagger inside his room, the door shut soundly behind you, followed by the lock turning.

Mikey doesn’t give you a second to react, mouth leaving open tongued kisses along your jaw and collarbone, hands working at tugging up your skirt.

“Mikey, baby, baby, wait-” you plead, backing up to create space between the two of you.

He flops onto the bed, hands on his knees, fingers raking through his hair again and again.

You’re careful as you sit next to him, scratching your own fingers along the center of his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” is all he utters.

“Bullshit. Talk to me.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, you get it. The party continues below you both, profanities and insults flying like it's nobody's business. It was too much. For Mikey, Camry, anyone. The more time you spent with his family, the more you realized why Carmen never came back to visit. Why Michelle skipped out of town and up to New York. Anything to keep the family an arms distance away. 

Why Mikey feels trapped.

“I know.” you whisper against his shoulder, mouth pressing in tiny kisses. You lift his head up with both of your hands, cradling his face gingerly. The tiredness exudes for nearly every crevice, eye bags worn and solidified. You use your thumb to smooth out his forehead, laughing softly when he wrinkles it more.

“You’ll always have me, Berzatto.”

“I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

You tut. “That’s not true. You’ve always had me. From the moment you sold me that greasy, sloppy sandwich down at The Beef. I was a goner.”

Mikey chuckles, leaning into your hands more. “I got you something.”

Your eyes go wide, brows forming a skeptical look. “Is that so?”

Mikey flickers his eyes down to his pants and you scoff.

“Wow, Michael. Are you gifting me your penis? Again? I must’ve been too nice this year.” you gently slap his face in mock anger.

“Haha,” he deadpans. “Try my pockets, detective wiseass.”

You let go of his face and rummage through his pants pocket, producing a ball of torn tissue paper, kept together by a single piece of tape. Confused but curious, you unwrap the gift, facing dropping as your eyes find his.

The tissue tumbles to the ground, revealing a necklace. At the bottom of it dangled a charm of…cheese?

“I remember the first day you came into the shop. Like a goddamn bat outta hell. Never seen anything like it. You ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and asked for, um, what was it?”

“Havarti-”

That’s right! Fuckin’ havarti cheese! What the hell even is that?”

“How do you own a sandwich shop and not provide a variety of cheeses, I don’t understand it.”

Mikey gawks at you. “Babe, we’re called The Beef. Not the cheese. But you wanna know what I did?”

You encourage him to finish, as if you didn’t know the rest of the story.

“I told you to wait and-and I was gonna go check in the back. I booked it out of the back door, all the way down to Malik’s corner store and bought the most expensive cheese he had. I rush back to the shop and guess what?”

“You made the sandwich.”

Mikey’s face cracks into the biggest grin you’d ever seen, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made the goddamn sandwich. Brought it out to you myself. Told you that we didn’t serve grilled cheese but for you, I’d make an exception.”

Your eyes well over in tears and you blink rapidly to keep them from falling. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, ya know.”

“You’re telling me all I had to do was buy you some cheese to get in your pants? Hot damn.”

You playfully shove Mikey back against the bed, crawling over to straddle him. “Well, it worked after a while, didn’t it?”

Mikey thrusts upwards, growing erection sliding against your damp underwear.

“It sure did.”

He grabs the back of your neck, surging up to slot his mouth against yours. You aren’t delicate in the way you claw at him, nails digging into his tanned flesh. Pushing up your skirt, Mikey palms your ass, stroking it before landing a hard smack against it. You moan into his neck, biting down.

“Perkiest ass I’ve ever seen, baby, shit.” Mikey groans, voice an octave deeper.

“And it’s yours. All yours.”

Mikey secures the back of your head as he flips the two of you over, pushing you down on your stomach. You do the rest of the work for him, sticking your ass up, and curving your back into an arch.

Mikey readily pulls down the zipper of his pants, hands readjusting his briefs until he is able to free himself. Spitting obscenely in his palm, Mikey shoves your panties to the side and rubs his saliva across your slickness. You buck back into him, whimpering when he graces you with a lone finger to loosen you up. You whine and wiggle your ass some more, ready to receive all that he was going to give you.

“Gonna give my baby what she wants, don’t you worry.” Mikey purrs, aligning himself to enter you. He slides in easily, the strained sigh as he fully situates him inside you never ceasing to make you wetter.

You pull yourself up so that you were resting on your hands, peeking over your shoulder to catch a gaze at Mikey as you begin to fuck him. He was enthralled at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you, the way you were able to handle him without saying a single word.

He would love to take his time and thoroughly explore your cunt but time is of the essence. Wrapping his right hand around your neck once again, he yanks you up into a deeper arch, left hand on your hip in a deathgrip. He meets your thrusts with his own, dropping his left leg down on the floor to gain some balance.

Between the familial bickering creeping up the stairs, all that could be heard was the squelching of your pussy and the labored breathing of Mikey, muffled praises spurring you on further.

He slaps your ass again and you tighten around him, eyes rolling to the top of your head as you attempt to hold onto his arms for dear life.

“Mikey, oh fucking god, baby you’re gonna make me come so hard. Please, please, please!”

He answers you by sticking his fingers in your mouth and you automatically clamp down on them, sucking and gagging until spit dribbles down the side of your mouth.

Mikey picks up speed and the coil inside you breaks as you reach your peak, legs stiffening as you rear back against Mikey. He continues to fuck you, albeit at a slower tempo, humming as you spasm against him.

“That’s my girl, my favorite fucking girl. Where do you want mine, huh? Tell me where you want it.”

He removes his fingers and lets them trail down to tease and pick at your hardened nipples that now poke through your shirt.

“I wanna taste. Want it in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” Mikey lets you go and you catch yourself before you fall completely face first into the bed.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You do as you're told, scurrying to position yourself on your knees in front of Mikey. Mouth open and head tilted back, you let a hand caress your breast as the other slithers up his thigh.

Mikey is affectionate as he goes to grab the back of your head, other hand tirelessly stroking his cock. A vein pops out of forehead as he grunts, a few milky droplets coating your face, before steady ropes accompany it. A few of them land in your mouth and you swallow it all eagerly.

Mikey tries to calm his breathing, watching you with hooded eyes as you lick at the tip of his cock, cleaning up the remnants of yourself off of him. You take him down all the way to the shaft for shits and giggles, pulling off of him with a low pop.

“Goddamn devil.”

You wink, swiping at the mess you could feel dripping on your face. Mikey helps to clean you up, both fixing each other’s clothes to appear less wrinkled. Seemingly ok with your appearance, you start to head downstairs but Mikey stops you.

He steps behind you, lifting up the necklace he got you. He fastens it, walking to your front to admire it.

You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth for a kiss.

“It’s you and me, Berzatto.”

“You and me.”

Exhaling heavily, you open the door to reenter the Berzatto family chaos, a new found confidence lighting your path.

[chokeholds-illegal]

Fantasy (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Era: Season 5 -- The group is new to Alexandria

Summary: Since arriving in Alexandria, everyone is trying to adjust. One morning, when you come home from a hunt before dawn, you accidentally overhear your best friend and housemate, Daryl, indulging himself. What happens when you discover his favorite fantasy is... you?

Warnings: smut (minors, DNI!), mentions of typical TWD gore and violence

[angst, romance, SMUT -- not a huge amount this chapter, but it heats up from here.]

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 2: here

Chapter 3: here

Alexandria, despite being the safest, most comforting place you could have wished for in this world, suffocated you at times. After being on the run for so long — constantly looking over your shoulder, having to scavenge for every meal — “normalcy” felt bizarre. It felt unnerving, strange, and ironically, hostile.

Once an outdoor cat, always an outdoor cat.

That’s why you liked being out there. Whenever you could, you volunteered to go on runs, even if it was by yourself. Deanna even gave you the job of “First Ranger of Alexandria,” in charge of all excursions beyond the town walls. It was different than what Aaron and Daryl did; you weren’t supposed to recruit. Just retrieve and explore, then return.

That morning, you had been out hunting, long before the sunrise. Every good hunter knows that deer like to move in darkness, especially later in the season. Your journey into the woods in the wee hours of the morning paid off — you had shot down a decent-sized buck. Clean, one shot, through the heart.

You had also found two undamaged crossbow bolts in a pile of garbage. You had tucked them into your backpack, knowing that a certain crossbow-wielding friend was always on the lookout for extra ammo.

You were carrying the field-dressed buck back through Alexandria’s gates just as the sky was starting to show signs of light. The sun still wouldn’t be fully risen for another hour or so. As you pass through the gates, you give Abraham, who’s currently on watch, a friendly “good morning” nod. Your group had only been accepted into Alexandria a short time ago, but you were all trying your damndest to pull your weight. Alexandria is a blessing, but not everyone is fitting in with equal ease.

Daryl, in particular, is having a difficult time. Being a part of the community, exchanging small talk with neighbors, attending welcome parties... it was all foreign to him, even before the world went to shit. He’s a lot like you in that way. You both need your space. You think, maybe, that’s why the two of you got along so easily. Ever since you met back at that camp outside Atlanta, there was a level of comfort between you that you cherished.

After processing your catch in the community kitchen, you start back to the “home” Deanna had designated to you. You, Rick, Carl, and Daryl were assigned the house — with you and Rick on the second floor, Carl in the attic, and Daryl in the basement bedroom. It was a good arrangement. The three of you, and Carl, were thick as thieves; it made sense to be put together.

You quietly enter through the front door, mindful to keep the noise down. Your three housemates are undoubtably still fast asleep at this hour. After setting your things down on the kitchen table and removing your jacket, you decide to go downstairs and leave the crossbow bolts outside Daryl’s door. You wanted to get a few minutes of sleep in before breakfast and didn’t want to miss Daryl, in case he headed out early.

Gingerly, you tiptoe down the wooden stairs. When you reach the basement, Daryl’s bedroom door is closed per usual. You slowly bend down and place the arrows outside the door.

You’re just about to turn around and head back upstairs when you hear an unusual sound from the bedroom. You freeze. Did I wake him?

After a few moments of silence, another sound, slightly louder this time, comes from behind the door. It was a quiet moan. For a moment, you consider knocking on Daryl’s door. What if he was in pain? Or having a nightmare?

Another moan. You feel your breath hitch in your throat. The sound was clearly Daryl, and this time, you were sure it wasn’t a moan of pain. The moan was subdued, almost a whimper. It sounded strained, yet beckoning.

Daryl was masturbating.

You purse your lips and hold your breath. Fuck, fuck. Of course, Daryl jacks off; everyone does. You guess you just never pictured Daryl relieving himself like this — he was always so steely, so steadfast. And on top of that, in all the time you’ve known him, he never seemed interested in anyone in that way, man or woman. Daryl as a sexual creature just seemed... utterly private.

More moans begin to penetrate the door, punctuated with heavy exhales. You know you should quietly sneak away — but what if he hears you? He’ll know you’ve been listening. And besides that, you hate to admit it, but there’s a part of you beginning to fill with intrigue. Is he naked in there? Is he lying above or below the sheets? Which hand does he stroke his...

Fuck. You silently scold yourself for letting your mind wander to such dirty and invasive places. This is Daryl Dixon for crying out loud. He’s one of your dearest friends; one of the people you cherish most in this devilish world.

Daryl’s noises of pleasure are starting to grow louder, more frantic. You should get away now; it’s time to get out of—

“[Y/N]... mmmph...please...”

You can’t believe what you just heard. Your ears must be deceiving you. Did Daryl really just moan your name?

Before you can process the utterance, it comes again: your name, gasped out in Daryl’s soft southern drawl. It comes buried within a litany of groans and curses. The realization dawns on you.

Daryl is touching himself to you.

You feel the blood drain out of your face. This is wrong. You shouldn’t be hearing this. You start moving towards the stairs, praying your steps don’t make a single sound.

One stair... two stairs... creeeaaaakkkkk.

Fuck.

Your breathing stops. There’s silence from Daryl’s door. Shit, shit, shit.

Panic rises up. He heard you. He totally heard you. You’re fucked.

More silence.

In a wave of frantic fear, you sprint as quickly and quietly up the rest of the stairs, fleeing the scene as swiftly as your legs will take you. You don’t stop until you reach your room on the second floor and shut the door behind you. You lean with your back against the door, still cursing yourself over and over in your head.

Shit! The arrows.

You forgot that you had left them right outside his door. Daryl knew you’d be on a run early this morning. It’ll take him all of two seconds to realize that you’re the one who left them there, and so you must have been the one on the stairs.

You rub your eyes and then push your palms into your hair. You fucked up bad. Somehow, in an attempt to do a nice gesture, you had supremely screwed it all up. Frustrated, you hastily strip off your hunting pants and shirt, leaving you in your underwear. You climb into bed and bury yourself beneath the covers.

Can I just disappear?

You try to think of other things, but your mind is stuck on Daryl. Why was he saying — moaning — my name? Does he like me? Or am i just the first person he could think of to fill his fantasy? You can’t get the sound of his whimpers out of your head. Those noises... you never expected him to sound so... needy.

After years of living in this new world, everyone was a bit deprived; you knew that all too well. But the desperation in Daryl’s moans was jarring, coming for someone who you’ve always seen as so independent, so needless, so firm. And on top of that, his desperation was folded in with... you.

Without fully realizing, a hand had snaked down to your underwear. Your middle finger draws a soft line up the length of your core. To your surprise, you’re dripping with arousal, soaking a warm, wet spot in your underwear.

You quickly pull your hand back up, almost shocked by your body’s own reaction. Why was this experience having this effect on you? You should be mortified, anxious, not turned on.

In reality, you were all three. How were you going to face Daryl today? You glance up from out the bed, out the window. The sun is just beginning to show a sliver of itself over the horizon, dashing the sky in the new blue and pink colors of the day. Should you just avoid him at all costs? But fuck, you live in the same house for Christ’s sake. How long could that last?

You melt down further into the bed and shut your eyes. You will yourself to rest, but of course, it doesn’t come.

At breakfast later that morning, you should have been dead tired, not having slept a wink since nearly 3:30am. But you were wired.

“Hey, [Y/N]!” Spencer calls out to you when he sees you enter the pantry garage.

Deanna’s son was chipper as ever, dressed in that typical “good-boy-master’s-degree” way we always dresses. Today is a clean sweater with slacks.

“Mornin’, Spencer,” you reply with a smile.

You step into the queue behind some others, waiting your turn to get your breakfast rations from Olivia. Spencer steps up next to you.

“Saw that deer you brought back this morning. You’re gonna be getting a lot of pats on the back today,” he remarks. “Everyone’s been dying for another round of that stew.”

You chuckle and give him a kind smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Your eyes are scanning the room, looking over your shoulder... waiting for Daryl to show up.

“Seriously, you’ll have to teach me how to hunt sometime,” Spencer continues. “You’re a master.”

Ever since your group arrived at Alexandria, you knew Spencer had a thing for you. The tall, handsome man always had his eye on you. He was also trying to bolster your ego and find excuses for one-on-one time. It’s not that it annoys you; he’s undeniably good-looking, not to mention charming. He’s just not your type, though.

“Wanna come have breakfast with me?” Spencer asks sweetly.

Your brain searches for an excuse. He had given you the same proposal not a week ago, and you couldn’t reject him again.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you reply coolly. “Your place?”

After exchanging pleasantries with Olivia and loading the morning’s ration of bread and eggs into your small side-bag. You stride towards the exit with Spencer close at your side.

Little did you know, that at that moment, Daryl was entering the pantry from the opposite direction. You nearly knock right into him as you exit the door.

“Whoa, there,” the long-haired man growls in that ever-present pseudo-annoyed drawl.

Your heart jumps into your throat.

“Sorry, Daryl!” you reply with a surprised yelp.

But Daryl is already past you, making his way into the building. He gives you a gruff of acknowledgment but nothing else.

Ok...

“What’s up with him today?” Spencer asks you with raised eyebrows once Daryl is out of earshot. “You two get into it or something?”

“No, no,” you quickly say, trying you best to seem unshaken. “He’s just like that sometimes. He doesn’t sleep well.”

It wasn’t a lie. Daryl was often abrasive, cold, and seemingly unfriendly to the untrained eye. But he was never that way towards you, not anymore. You bite the inside of your cheek nervously.

Was this it? Did this morning’s unfortunate run-in ruin yours and Daryl’s relationship? You prayed to whatever gods are above: Please. Don’t let this be happening.

Before you turn away and continue walking alongside Spencer, you dare a last backwards glance. Through the door window, you make out Daryl’s shape standing in front of the counter, leather vest draped over broad, strong shoulder. His trusty crossbow is slung over his back. And... the two new bolts in his quiver.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. After breakfast with Spencer, where nothing of any importance was discussed, you manage to find time for a quick nap. Afternoon watch with Rosita went off without a hitch. Your relief comes to take over just as the sun is starting to slide down to the horizon.

Walking back towards your house at the end of the street, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to Daryl. If you were being honest, your mind hadn’t really left him all day. You couldn’t shake the way he had shouldered past you outside the pantry, barely looking up out from his shaggy bangs. The way he barely acknowledged you. You slouch, and not from the weight of your gun.

When you enter the front door, you’re greeted with the thick aroma of garlic and tomato. Saliva immediately flows into your mouth.

“Just in time!” Rick calls out happily.

“What’s this?” you ask with a chuckle, setting your things down on the couch. “Did you — Rick Grimes — cook dinner?”

He rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Carl helped.”

“Hey!” the boy exclaims in mock-astonishment. “I did most of it, actually.”

You grin widely, approaching the table. You suddenly purse your lips when you notice Daryl, also sitting at the table. He hasn’t said a word to you. Hell, he’s not even looking up from the table. A closer glance reveals that Daryl seems to be busy studying a small topographical map.

“Hey, what’s that?” you ask, sitting down in the chair beside Daryl.

You decide that the best course of action is to pretend like nothing was wrong. Fake it ‘til you make you, as they say.

“Map,” replies Daryl shortly.

“Okay,” you poke lightly, letting an easy grin come to your lips. Everything is normal. Fake it until you make it. “What, where, why?”

“Aaron got it. It’s that town up by Sector 8. Wan’ go check it out. Nex’ week, maybe.”

At this point, it appears that even Rick has noticed the unusual tension in the air. Daryl’s barely looked up from the paper in front of him since you entered the house. Rick attempts to move the attention elsewhere.

“Ok, here we go, folks,” he announces, starting to deposit large servings of red sauce-covered noodles onto the plates. “Spaghetti dinner, gourmet-style, a la Rick and Carl Grimes.”

"Carl and Rick Grimes," Carl corrects him which a mischievous grin, seemingly unaware of the weirdness in the room. You're thankful for his childlike innocence.

Daryl suddenly stands up, his chair pushing backward with a jarring squeak.

"Takin' mine t'go," he mumbles out, picking up his plate in one hand. "Need some fresh air. Been inside all day."

"Daryl --," Rick begins in protest.

"Thanks for cookin," he says, cutting off Rick.

You watch blankly as Daryl heads for the front door. He gives Carl a kind smile, and then, he's gone.

"What the hell was that?" Rick asks once the door slams shut, talking to no one in particular.

You bite your bottom lip, not knowing what to do. You feel like shit. It's all shit.

"I dunno," you lie.

You shoot Carl an apologetic look, noticing how his face has fallen at the archer's sudden departure.

"[Y/N], do you think, uh," Rick says, looking in to your eyes. "You wanna go check on him?"

That familiar dry lump starts forming in your throat. You gaze back at Rick's pleading eyes. You know that Rick's been worried about Daryl since you all arrived at Alexandria. Deanna and the other residents were just starting to cease their wary glances at the group as you walked down the street. Things were still uneasy -- the group was doing all they could to earn their keep, but they were still strangers. People were unsure about Daryl most of all. His wild demeanor, reluctance to come indoors, and rough exterior made him unusual. One loose cannon, any incident and...

"Why me?"

"He listens to you, [Y/N]," Rick replies, pleads. "Ya' know he does."

You sigh and scrunch up your nose in defeat. Fuck.

[system-of-a-feather]

I don't have that good communication beyond the subsystem, but I think Ray is trying to pass me an idea / suggestion about somewhere down the line possibly fusing with a deep part gatekeeper when we get around to that and when we aren't 1) busy dealing with gender shit (which will be a while) and 2) when I am more settled in the present and honestly its a pretty interesting concept

That gatekeeper is a bit of a mystique part that doesn't really work with or interact with most of the system by nature of their role - but I could see it happening and being a thing since me and that gatekeeper are somewhat originally modeled partially after the same OC (I'm not an introject, but that OC is one I relate and identify with to some level and my internal appearance was somewhat borrowed from it; that part is a shapeshifting part that takes the form of OCs and the original one he took upon was that same OC) and because I'm honestly volunteering and putting my name down for working with the deep dormant parts when the time gets around to it because despite being of the Riku subsystem - I cope and existed in a similar space and dealing with similar parts as those parts and while I'm "from this side" of the system, I am like... a dual citizen and that side of the system is not nearly as foreign to me as it is for other parts.

So that might be interesting. Not anytime immediate, but I am more than open to it.

I do love how this system is so enthusiastic to welcome me to the "functional unit" of the system - and I do actually mean that genuinely beyond my teenage "but i dont waaannnnnnnnaaa do anything and I don't want to participate in society" and less of an actual "its too much" - cause it would be really great if I was actually able to contribute and participate in helping the other parts in this brain that were in a similar place to me break out of that stuff and I would really like to contribute - especially since I am honestly, again, just really happy to be able to exist beyond curling up in a corner and having flashbacks constantly.

So if Ray and everyone hears me make one comment about the system and immediately eyeballs me as "such a possible future asset to the team" - as weird as it kind of is - I am more than glad to sign papers showing interest in being a trainee to the Squad because honestly, I think these guys are pretty cool and I'd really like to bring my old friends out here with me cause honestly, the main system is honestly a bit scared of them because they are pretty mentally fucked up and the longer they hide and cope in the "if i dont exist i cant have flashbacks 24/7" - the more unhinged they tend to get - but honestly, as someone who was there recently myself, they're not that bad and they're just really stuck and I really think they deserve better. They comforted me when I was in their place and I'd really like to help those parts come join me here.

Plus honestly, I really have to give the Functional Unit of this system a lot of credit, they did a lot of really good in the time I was either nonexistant or trapped in a loop and I'd really just like to add to that creation process because I think its really amazing how much we've learned to thrive since I was previously "alive".

That said, I firmly agree with the system's decision to completely ignore / leave "that side" of the system alone because 1) thats how the system is structured and there are a number of parts in place to keep it that way, so it would be fighting up stream 2) I know from personal experience that if the parts aren't coming to you, its more hurtful and harmful to try to bring them up - it's best to invite them when they come by on their own terms and take the time and 3) god it is hard "waking up" when you are in that place and while I think they deserve way better, I firmly stand by that half of the system being able to choose when they are ready and wanting to get that because again, its hard.

So while I do really like those parts, I really respect that they would rather not exist than deal with the trauma inherent in their existence and all - so all I am going to do is put my request and notification of willingness and interest to support them when the time comes on Ray's desk and letting him know that I very very much would love to help that side out as someone whose been there.

To which I'm getting the feeling from Ray, XIV, Riku, and Lucille that everyone is just astounded to hear anyone stating that about that side because I am only now realizing that literally everyone had no real good idea on how to safely work with those parts so I guess me being pretty casual about them is... unexpected for the elders who have spent years upon years thinking about how to handle "the sleeping dragon" as the system refers to that side of things.

That said, they do look at me like I went up to a Terrasque that has destroyed a whole continent and like I just grabbed it and started dressing it up in a tuttu or something.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Now that we're post election it's time for me to say the following as clearly as I can:

The reason why many of us get frustrated with the increasingly urgent "YOU HAVE TO VOTE IF YOU DON'T THE ACCOMPANYING INEVITABLE RISE OF FASCISM IS ON YOU" messages around election time has little to do with a strong belief that voting is worthless or bad.

It's ACTUALLY a two part concern:

Voting is the bare minimum. It needs to happen yes, but I just don't see the same push for the phone banking, the canvassing, and the community organizing that strengthens candidate's campaigns and increases the community rate of spread for important policies. It is so very frustrating to have people constantly hammer away at "JUST VOTE GODDAMNIT" for a few months and then go dead fucking silent the rest of the year. Campaigning for candidates and policies (not to even get STARTED on community organization efforts) is a year long task that needs a constant stream of volunteers. Voting is once a year max in the US on average. If you have ever worked in campaigning or organizing, then you know. You know exactly what Get Out The Vote (hatefully known as GOTV) is the culmination of. Months and months of 12 hour shifts on evenings and weekends, voter registration drives, campaign outreach events, etc. The amount of work required to even get to the voting booth is insane. We NEED PEOPLE TO GET INVOLVED WITH THIS WORK. Because they don't. They just don't. Not en masse, not on average, not usually. So yes, vote, but for the love of god, help us get to GOTV too.

Shame and fear are bad motivators. They just are. I'm not saying it's impossible to motivate people that way, but I ABSOLUTELY AM saying that you will have inconsistent and (relative to many other emotionally motivating inputs) ineffective results. When your pre-election strategy is a near paralyzing amount of fear based threats, and your post-election strategy is to shame and blame "non-voters", that is just.... not a winning combo. It isn't. It's bad fucking strategy. There is almost no world in which it will produce a significant and effective outcome for your candidates and policies. Which people would know if they were more consistently involved in political campaigning and organizing beyond the immediate chaos of GOTV.

So when people say "no really stop doing this" they're not discouraging voting. I am trying to help you. I am trying, as someone who has been actively involved in political campaigning and organizing for literally all of my remembered life, to help you achieve your goals of increased voter turnout.

When people turn around and lash out at the conversations people like me have about not doing that shit, you are telling me that you are more invested in being cathartically angry than in change-making. And that.....does admittedly make me pretty pissed off.

My family, my communities, could never afford that preference, so I put in the long term work instead. And not only are people refusing to do that work with me (leaving those of us who are involved overextended and understaffed) they are insulting and verbally abusing us for the (literally, I am not exagerrating here) INEVITABLE FUCKING OUTCOME.

2020 was a freak culmination of desperation. Not a fucking template for increasing political engagement.

I have always and will always support GOTV drives because that is literally the bare minimum required of me to do the work I choose to do with my life. But if that's where you stop doing the work? I...I simply do not have to time to give a fuck about your self-righteous outrage when the outcome doesn't go your way. I have work to do. I have the next campaign cycle to focus on already. I have community care work to attend to so that the aftermath of this election cycle keeps its destruction to a minimum. I. Am. Fucking. Busy.

You could be too. You don't have to sit and stew in helpless rage and grief. And if you don't want to or can't? Fine! But then stop acting like you know better than those of us who do and can! Stop yelling at us and scolding us because you only see the strawman pitched into the crowd to distract you amd redirect your anger at a more vulnerable and less influential target. Take a fucking chill pill and talk to us about what's helpful that you CAN do like learning about talking points and sharing them with others in person or on social media, or putting up a road sign, or taking campaign polls. Just. Stop doing this one thing for the love of god it helps NO ONE.

[lighterlaughter]

Oh there are so many ways that Mormonism is messed up. So many ways in which it contributes to misogyny, encourages cruelty, idolizes individual poverty provided you pay your dues to the church. And so many just weird things. So MANY. I have lists upon lists and sometimes when I share a childhood story, I have to explain a belief or tradition and the looks I get remind me that some of that shit is not normal. The belief that they use to back up all this misogyny is that A man who follows the church and does all the rituals and pays all his tithing will, after he's resurrected at the end of the world, become a god himself. He will make his own planet and repeat what happened on this planet on his own planet. All the spirits that will populate that planet will be the spirit babies born to his wives. That is the highest glory that women can get in the belief system. Eternal baby-maker for a god. Not being a god yourself, not even having your name known. Just popping out spirit babies endlessly until time and existence lose all meaning and beyond. This means that as soon as girls enter 'young womens' when they turn twelve, they are making lists of traits their husbands need to have and learning skills to help them be 'better wives'. The boys go camping, the girls make quilts. The boys learn to change tires, the girls learn to bake bread or volunteer in the nursery. As soon as a girl is 18, she's shuffled off away from her parents and family to the nearest Young Single Adults ward. Not allowed to regularly attend church with her parents, she now has to attend church with other unmarried members with the goal of getting married quickly. I was 17 when my bishop started talking to me and my parents about me going to YSA. Also you have 12 year old kids getting 'baptisms for the dead' which is a fucked up concept and I have many thoughts about. I was that kid in seminary that attended every day even when too sick for school and would argue doctrine openly with the teacher and win with scripture and conference talks to back up my points. I graduated seminary. I know their doctrine inside and out and the misogyny and racism seeps into every single part of it. On the money end of things, the mormon church owns not just church buildings and temples, but farms, food processing locations, food banks, media companies, malls. It is a money machine fueled by the tithes of people who are told constantly that if the choice is between tithing and feeding yourself and/or your family, pay tithing, pay the fast offerings too, and make that extra donation. You'll be blessed for it. It's disgusting

So I've found Alyssa Grenfell on youtube. She shares her experience of leaving mormonism, and the inner workings of the religion. I had very little ideas about what mormonism is, only that it's a high-control religion, very difficult to leave, and has people knocking on doors trying to get converts. I've been interested to find out more, and I ended up watching almost all of her content, and some of the information I've got from it opened my eyes on other feminist topics, and I believe is relevant to the current discourse!

So if you, like me, don't know how mormonism works, it started when a guy decided that he too could be a part of the bible; he wrote a bible part two: mormon, and proclaimed himself a prophet. Then he started a religion based on his writings, decided it was more important than the bible itself because he 'translated it from gold tablets god gave him', and started gaining followers by convincing people he's the prophet. Once he had managed to get a following, he soon started to sexually exploit the wives and daughters of these followers, to the point where he had 20-40 wives and had married 14yo children. Families allowed it to happen because he would promise them to be royalty in the afterlife. He eventually got into a lot of trouble for stealing and raping children so he was killed by an angry mob, but the religion continued.

The religion is same as christianity except more rules (no coffee, no alcohol, no smoking), eternal worship of the predator who wrote it, followers are pressured to follow the rules exactly, and, the vital part, the followers have to give 10% of their income to the church. They developed a culture where once every young mormon kid comes of age, they have to go on a 'mission', which means they're removed from their home, and have to spend 2 years (1,5 for women) living in a foreign area, knocking on doors, sharing the gospel, trying to convert people. The conversion rate is extremely low, but at that point kids have invested so much time, effort, energy and passion for the religion, they become devoted to it and start to feel alienated in the world that rejects their religion. And even with the low conversion rate, every new convert means another continuous source of income for the church. So it's very profitable to send out young adults to make these sales. The kids are told that if they don't complete their missions, they will not be able to marry, and marriage is presented as their only life purpose.

So how rich is the church at this point? 230 billion dollars. I've been shocked to hear this because I had no idea. Alyssa explained that the mormon church is as rich as Pepsi, they have more money than Disney and McDonalds. So you might be wondering, like I did, well what are they doing with all that money? I've been left to wonder this for a while, until I watched the video called 'Why are so many influencers mormon?', which explained it. I didn't even realize a lot of influencers were mormon. But, this video showed me something both disturbing, and eye opening.

Before I go into that, I have to point out how patriarchal and misogynistic this religion is. Women are not given any options except marriage, and it's presented as the only righteous way to live. They're groomed for marriage from a very young age, encouraged to start writing letters to their future husbands at the age of 9. They're taught cooking, sewing and childcare, and to coddle any males in the family. It's taken for granted that m*n won't respect women, to the point where male children are allowed to harass grown women and their families will not intervene or consider it a problem. Chastity and purity are promoted to the level where members of the religion are expected to wear special underwear at all times, which hides their entire torso, shoulders, and legs down to their knees, and their clothing is expected to cover this up completely. They're rejected by the religion if they dare to have sex before marriage, or drink alcohol or coffee, or in some cases, tea. The church has a history of allowing and promoting polygamy, in the sense that a male was allowed to have as many wives as he wanted; they've since stopped this, but refused to break up the existing marriages. They're also promoting anti gay and racist propaganda, which Alyssa observed in school where she'd been teaching; a gay kid almost ended his life due to extreme homophobia.

I know all of this is somewhat common in all areas of society, all religions, and all cultures, but in mormonism it seems to be written into the core of it.

So now, why are so many influencers mormon? I didn't even know they were. The influencers themselves are not promoting the fact that they're mormon, nor does it come up in viral discussions. Ballerina farm is mormon. Tradwives are mormon. Whataboutaub, Rachel Parcel, brooklynandbailey, tanner_mann, thebucketlistfamily, Taylor Frankie Paul, Sarah Beeston, Ruby Franke, these are all mormon. Most of the Utah-based influencers are mormon, and there's a bigger amount of successful and popular influencers from Utah, than from LA or NY.

For me it immediately explained why this viral content is like that. Why we're having such influx of highly patriarchal, anti-feminist, very dangerous and sexist content, put in front of the eyes of young women. Why it's being promoted as an ideal way of life. How are these women able to share this life as if they truly believed it was good and ideal. How could they think it's harmless? If they're using the internet to the extent that they're creating content, how would they not be exposed to any feminism at all? And they wouldn't because it's against their religion to engage with content like that, or with people talking about it. Because being raised in a high-control religion, they would truly believe their lives are the ideal. They would be presented with it as their only option, the only way of life possible for a woman.

It's heartbreaking because I can now understand why it was so easy to push Ballerina Farm to give up her entire life ambition to get married and carry children for a male she didn't even want to go out with, the pressure from the religion to do so would be immense, she would have been raised to see this as the only option, everything else in her life would be considered pointless. She wouldn't have an actual choice, she'd be groomed for this from the moment she was born. Mormons don't advertise 'looking for your soulmate', they only instruct women to marry a mormon male who completed his mission and make it work.

So how does the immensely rich mormon church play into this? I couldn't see it until Alyssa explained in a very detailed way how youtube content advertising works. I didn't know about this either, but here's the overview:

How much you get paid on youtube, instagram, tik-tok, or other online content platform, depends on what type of content it is, based on how much advertisers are willing to pay to put adverts on it. For instance, you get paid much more for finance content, because banks will pay premium prices to be advertised in a finance-related video. If you're making content on cooking, you get paid way less, because it's not such a lucrative field. If you're making content on christianity, you get similarly low price as for cooking, christian church is not that rich. But, if you're making content as a mormon, that's showcasing some aspect of a mormon life, even if you don't specifically say you're mormon, the price goes way up, to the point where it's as lucrative as finance. The mormon church is making sure that the mormon influencers are being paid premium prices for their content, because people who get massively interested in the influencers, eventually find out that it's the mormon life being advertised, and some of them consider taking on mormonism. Which gives church more converts, which means the church will earn more money. The content we're watching is one huge advert sponspored by mormon church, and we don't even know it.

Alyssa figured this out because her content falls under the keyword 'mormon', and her comments warned her that the church is advertising on her videos, even when she's making mormon-critical content. She then realized that she too was being paid a premium price for her views, just because they're mormon themed. She went on to discover that even just being an influencer in Utah will fetch a premium price, because most of mormons are based in Utah. For more detailed and comprehensive explanation on this, watch her video!

Advertising is not the only way the mormon church is spending their money, they've also built a shopping mall, and are basically spending their money by investing and gambling and everything any corporation does with their profits. It's making me mad, and also makes the members of the church mad when they discover where 10% of their income goes, because they're told it's being used for charity and community service, and not advertisments and building malls.

For me this solves a mystery of how is it possible, in this day and age to have such influx of tradwives and influencers of 'traditional life', they're being sponsored by an organization making a profit off of it, making sure that anyone making this content is so well paid, they're able to live off of it, and keep creating more of it, and in the process of doing that, groom young women into their lifestyle.

Learning more about religions, specifically high-control religions, makes me realize just how much of it is happening all around us, but invisible, not naming what it is. It's similar to MLM's, the people inside are constantly trying to lure more people in, to make profit for those on the top, while the organization keeps changing names and hides their business structure in order to save their reputation. People can get influenced by it, and sucked in, without even knowing about it. Somehow most MLM's are also in Utah.

Mormon church also asked to no longer be called that, in order to stop being associated with the words like 'cult', which people have identified it as. Now they're working under more secretive names, and hidden business practices, so we wouldn't even know what we're being influenced by, and why is the content in front of us what it is.    

[angrybell]

This is a rant. Please feel free to ignore.

So one of my daughters is on a soccer team. It’s her school’s team and it has descended into being absolute shit show.

Now, I realize it’s youth sports. I am under no delusion that my daughter is going to be on the national team. But what has gone on this season is beyond a bad series of results. It’s a systemic abomination that will turn these girls off to playing in the future.

I’ve coached at this level. I’ve played at that level. I’ve know other coaches at this level. I’ve never seen a more namby pamby bunch of fuck ups in my life. And each of the dumb fucks involved gets paid an order of magnitude more than I do (this is based on their addresses, job title and who they work for).

Their practices are a disorganized mess. They allow their field to be invaded and taken over y other teams. I know they have the field permit. When someone tries to take your field, you whip it out. If they dont go, you call the league to end it. The one good thing about this league is they won’t put up with that kind of nonsense.

But they don’t.

Next they are constantly whining about the weather. Guess what dumb shot? It rains in the winter. If you mom about it, the girls will to and that will affect their attitude towards playing. Grow the fuck up, get wet and don’t bitch about it. Lead by example you fat-ass prick.

One of the biggest problems with this team, unlike so many others at this school, is that it is overstocked with entitled Princess prima donnas who like to play the mean girls game. I completely lay this at the feet of the parents. Of all my kids, I have never been with a more toxic group of parents than this grade. It’s like the admissions people went on break for this class and just let every asshole and their kids in.

What this leads to on a girls team is factionalism. Little cliques of who is in and who is not. And girls are not boys. Boys will play with anyone they think will help them win. Girls will not. And the coaches for this group have done nothing to deal with toxicity. Partly, I suspect, because one of the coaches Is married to Queen Bee Toxic Bitch of the class. So the woman girls get to play their mean girls and the ones they target get to suffer.

So you’ve got a lack of leadership. A toxic environment . Add to this all of the coaches involved are ridiculously nice guys. Usually, I stick up for nice guys. But in coaching, you don’t want nice guys. You want people who lead, communicate, and ensure there is order. You can have a nice guy in a multi-coach situation, but then that means you need someone else who is the hardcase who makes sure the kids eat their veggies and doesn’t care that it interrupts their socializing/flower crown making/ or mean girl time. Instead you have this trio of bozos who beg the girls to participate.

This all leads to a situation where practice are so painful, my daughter has threatened to quit. Games where we’ve blown out because the kids do not understand basic concepts (eg where does the goal keeper stand on a corner kick?)

And if you tell me “why don’t you coach?” The answer is that I volunteered but they decided to go with these fuckups.

[forcefullyawake]

This is for @cupcake-rogue’s like a virgin collab!

Denki x F! Reader

Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff, and a suggestive ending. 

Summary: Sometimes the right person runs into you. Literally. Other times it’s a hero who’s not watching where he’s going.

WC: 1.9k

Denki Kaminari doesn’t do being nervous. 

He’s a hero, a pro, top ten. He worked his ass off during UA, his internships, did everything right, shed his jokester ways, and in the first hero rankings he was in? He placed higher thank even Bakugo. He’s impressive, he thinks, tall and blonde, having grown into himself after those first few awkward years. The point is he’s not nervous around women anymore, doesn’t stutter over his words or make inappropriate comments. He’s cool, mature, a catch for any woman. 

Until, that is, he quite literally runs into you.

“I’m fucking late,” Denki announces to nobody- it’s not like anybody stayed over the night before. It’s a true testament to who he is now that his morning routine can be essentially cut in half and almost nothing goes wrong during it. His hero costume is not only easy to get on, but something that works well with his usual wardrobe, so that he can be out the door in under twenty minutes for times like these. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” He mutters to himself, finally getting all the buttons into place right when the elevator opens up to the ground floor. It’s impressive, actually, that he manages to run into you. With a quirk like his, he’s learned to be constantly aware of his surroundings so nobody gets shocked accidentally. Today, however, he’s not thinking straight and runs directly into you, knocking you (and your paperwork) to the ground. 

He stops dead in his tracks, wanting more than anything to start apologizing, helping you pick things up. You know, things any normal person or hero would do but he finds himself stuck in place. You’re… hot, for lack of a better word. He’ll think of some later. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something about you that has him immediately bewitched- mind, body, and soul, just like that. You’re standing now, a scowl on your face and- hey you’re snapping your fingers for some reason, maybe he should listen in.

“Hello? Is anybody any there?” Your voice is understandably irritated, looking him up and down quickly before huffing. “Whatever. Watch where you’re going next time, jerk.” You spin away from him, taking his hopes and dreams right with you. But you walk into his apartment building, and through the glass doors that stand between you he sees you walk to the manager- so you’re either gonna live there or work there. Either way he has a second chance. 

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket, and a quick glance tells him it’s Mineta, demanding to know where he is- is he okay? Was there a villain attack? Denki shoots off a quick text saying he’s just overslept before hurrying on his way. 

It’s not until later, when he’s finally in his office, that Denki realizes how he was feeling. 

For the first time, in a very long time, Denki Kaminari was nervous. All because of you.

“Stupid hero, not watching where he was stupidly going,” You mutter under your breathe before plastering on a smile when your new apartment manager steps into view. God, this place is so nice. You can’t wait to move in. You have to dropped off the signed leasing forms and then give the place one last look around before the moving trucks start coming in. 

The meeting goes smoothly, which helps ease whatever leftover tension you have from the morning. The keys are in your hands, the boxes are piling up, and your neighbor is out for the day it looks like so you can play music as loudly as you dare. Your day goes just about as well as a moving day can. You get the important things set up first- bed, tv, coffee maker. The creature comforts for when you’re inevitably exhausted tomorrow. You hear movement in the other apartment, frowning at the shared wall with how clearly you can. Hm, that might be annoying. Still, you don’t plan on turning down the music unless asked. 

Almost like clockwork you hear a knock on your door. You pause to lower the volume to a more acceptable level before opening the door, ready to introduce yourself and apologize, make a good first impression and all that only to see-

“You!” You raise an accusatory finger- at the hero who knocked you over and did nothing this morning. “You can’t be my neighbor!”

“I-” He starts, having the good sense to at least look a little sheepish now. “I’m sorry?” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head, making him look even more nervous but you can see his eyes looking over your shoulder to peer into your apartment. 

“Yeah, you should have said that this morning,” It holds less venom than you want, especially when you get distract by the muscles his actions put on display. Huh. Your new neighbor is incredibly built. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “Again, whatever. I turned the music down. Goodnight.” You go to close the door but his voice stops you. 

“Hold on, I wasn’t going to ask you to turn it down,” He starts, finally looking away from your apartment, “I liked it. And maybe you can play it for me now? I could help you put stuff away? Make up for this morning?”

You should say no. You’re already getting tired, you have stuff beyond packing to do tomorrow, and it’s stupid to let a complete stranger into your house. Even if he’s a pro hero. And even if he’s cute. You should tell him to get lost. Instead, you open your mouth to hear yourself say,

“Sure, come on in.”

Denki can’t believe his luck when you open your door a little wider to let him in. 

He was so sure you were going to say no- hell, even you looked a little confused when yes came out of your mouth, but he wasn’t going to question it too much. Your place already looked a lot cozier than his, with decorations half in the boxes, even. You have photos up on the walls already, pictures of people who look like you too and people who look like your friends. His own apartment is pretty sparse, just a place he can sleep and eat in. 

“Could you help me in the kitchen?” Your voice carries through the space, having left him behind. “I have some stuff that need to go onto the top shelf.” He follows blindly, biting down so hard on his lower lip it almost bleed when he sees you. You’re not doing anything scandalous, just putting dishes away but the way your arms are raised over your head have given him a glimpse at your skin where your shirt has ridden up. He can feel the blood rush south in his body, embarrassingly. 

“Stop ogling and start helping,” You snap over your shoulder, frowning at him. That snaps him out of his daze, not wanting to leave too soon despite having another early morning shift. He grabs the box you point at, and starts to place the mugs on the top shelf. They look like gifts, he thinks, all of them printed with far too many places for one person to have visited. 

“Your friends get you these?” He asks, trying to sound casually interested, not too desperate, “Or a boyfriend?” You snort at him.

“Friends, mostly, and some family,” You wait a long moment before continuing, “No boyfriends, though.” Denki internally heaves a sigh of relief. 

“I don’t get out much, with my job. But I like to pretend I do,” You say, eyeing the mugs wistfully. “How about you? You travel a lot?”

“That requires taking time off,” Denki says, frowning a little as he tries to remember his last actually relaxing day off. “But you know what they say- if you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life!”

“Oh, bullshit,” You snort out, abandoning the box you’ve been unpacking all together. “I love my job, a lot, but I have worked some days.” The tension is broken after that, with Denki asking you to elaborate and you trying to play coy until the rants just burst out of you. It’s not until your stomach gives a loud grumble that you realize neither of you have been unpacking but just talking for the past hour and a half. 

It’s just late enough that a normal dinner is out of the question, but maybe you could order something in?

“I know a good ramen place that delivers here,” Denki volunteers, grinning sheepishly. 

“Are you sure your quirk isn’t mind reading?” You tease him, just to watch him laugh. He’s pretty hot when he laughs, you think, then immediately try to squash the thought. Dinner first, crushing on a hero later.

Dinner is ordered.

Denki’s right, the ramen is good and it comes quick. The two of you slurp your soup in silence, the awkwardness returning from before. Denki seems almost unable to look at you now, for some reason. He focuses in so hard on his bowl you’re surprised it doesn’t go up in smoke. You want to ask him about it but you can’t figure out how to phrase the question. 

For his part, Denki is having an internal meltdown. When you lean forward to take a sip of the broth your shirt pulls forward just enough that he can see the swell of your breasts. It shouldn’t affect him this much, he’s been around enough, but there’s something about the white of your bra that makes his head spin, makes him feel like a virgin all over again. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him the same moment he blurts out-

“I can see your bra, I’m sorry, don’t kick me out,” All in one breath. You’re silent for a moment, and then another, and another, and Denki regrets every choice he’s made in his life until now that brought him here. You keep not saying anything and a million and one scenarios run through his head, each one worse than the next. Oh my god, what if you tell people? He’ll be known as the pervert hero, he won’t be able to work in Japan anymore, he’ll have to someplace like America or-

“Would you like to see more of it?” Your voice is soft, shy as your hands twist in the bottom of your shirt, looking at him with wide eyes. He’s sure he’s misheard you because there’s no way you’re offering what he thinks you are. 

“More?” He manages to croak out. You don’t reply, but your shirt keeps going upwards. Your shirt continues upwards until it’s off of you and Denki’s brain has finally, truly short circuited. 

You’re not sure what’s possessing you to be so bold- maybe the conversation, maybe the way the food has made you comfortably warm and a little drowsy, maybe you just wanna see what he’ll do next. It’s cute, endearing even, how his eyes can’t figure out where to look. He can’t decide if he wants to throw himself at you or away from you. 

“More,” You agree, moving closer to him on the couch, taking the bowl from his hands to set on the table in front of you. Denki stops breathing as you move even closer to him, your face swimming in front of his eyes. “Tell me if I should stop?”

“Never,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours, tasting like a promise, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s so easy to fall into him, like you’ve known him forever, like this is as easy as breathing. 

It’s sunrise, somehow. Denki is still there, blissfully unaware as you watch him sleep. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t watch where he was going the previous morning. 

Now, though, you wouldn’t mind running into him again.